Identity
by GeishaGirl93
Summary: The makeup helped break the illusion.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Young Justice.  
**A/N:** Time for another favorite pairing of mine. I'm going to make it two chapters instead of my usual one-shots. Let me know how it turns out.

**Title:** Identity  
**Summary:** The makeup helped break the illusion.  
**Pairing(s):** Aqualad/Kaldur  
**Warnings:** yaoi, angst, identity crisis, cross-dressing, potential OOCness, enough fluff to kill a horse

* * *

When he looked in the mirror, all Conner could see was Superman; his eyes, the color of his hair, the sharpness of his jaw, the way his lips quirked into a smile—it all belonged to Superman.

There were times when he wondered what belonged to him.

Xxx

The first time Conner puts on makeup, it's not by accident but it's not completely by choice. It had been the result of a stupid dare orchestrated by a sugar-high Wally: put on one of the girls' makeup and wear it for the day. Not one to back down from anything or anyone, Conner had accepted and walked into M'gann's room with what he hoped was confidence. He had settled himself at the vanity mirror and glanced over the assortment of shadows and lipstick, eventually settling on red rogue and a glittery black eyeshadow.

He had been slow—methodical. The last thing he wanted was to have Wally laughing at him, and he did want to look . . . presentable at best. So carefully—oh-so carefully—Conner had applied the eyeshadow with a deft hand and filled in his lips with the lipstick like a child colors inside the line of a coloring book. He had smeared a thin veil of lipstick over the top, checked himself once and then walked out.

M'gann had smiled and commented on how good he looked; Artemis nudged him in the ribs and said that it hadn't been a bad job for a beginner; Wally had bowed his head in defeat, and Dick had laughed at him; Kaldur had stared—something sharp but unidentifiable glittering in his eyes.

Later that night, Conner had stared at his reflection. His blue eyes were highlighted by the black eyeshadow, and his lips looked full and shiny beneath the red paint. He had gingerly touched a finger to his lips—eyebrows furrowing together in a look of pure concentration as he familiarized himself with the smooth texture of his lips combined with the lipstick and gloss. Then he carefully ran a finger over the black eyeshadow, feeling the smooth lids and the dryness of the powder.

For a brief moment, something shifted, and Conner drew his fingers away. When he looked down, he saw they were stained red and black.

Xxx

Conner had seen breasts. The G-Gnomes had fed him information about both the male and human body. He had seen naked breasts, breasts concealed sports bras and silk; he'd seen pectorals rippling with muscle or sagging with age; he'd seen a woman's privates as he had seen a man's, and the G-Gnomes had even simulated the feeling of both beneath Conner's lax hands.

Artemis had small breasts, but the tank top she was wearing cradled them perfectly. M'gann's breasts were larger than Artemis', but the fact that M'gann could materialize clothing gave her the advantage of clothing that fit her breasts and hugged them perfectly. However, in the right light, when M'gann moved the right way, one could see the outfit was only another thin layer of skin.

They were both pretty in the sense of pretty that had been imbued in Conner by the G-Gnomes. They both had pretty hair that they liked to tossle; they both had long legs and dainty hands; they both had full lips and breasts and curves and round hips; they both giggled and smelled of sweet things.

So when M'gann pressed herself against Conner—her softness melding against his hard lines and muscles, he found himself jealous but fought the urge to push her away.

Xxx

Conner had once told Black Canary:

"I wanted to be Superman."

Black Canary had smiled at him, leaned forward and gingerly touched his hand. She was like his mother—the only parent he had ever known and she spoke softly:

"You'll never be Superman, Conner. Just be you and it will all work out."

And he had listened. He gave himself to urges that were unfamiliar to him.

Xxx

He knew he wouldn't look good in a dress. He was too bulky, too muscular; too masculine (too much like Superman) so instead he went with what he knew looked good on him. He went with jeans that hugged his legs and gave him make-believe curves; cool silk shirts that hung off his shoulders; boots that didn't have a heel that made him feel off-balance and cotton panties made of lace.

The first night Conner tried on an outfit with the makeup; he felt nervous and hated it. He had stood in the bathroom for he didn't know how long, leaning against the sink and trying to get his heart rate under control. He wasn't supposed to be like this—flittering at the sight of his own reflection like a groundhog that has seen its shadow. If he was ever going to be Superman, he needed to be brave like him. Superman wouldn't run from this.

(But something deep inside told Conner he would, and that pleased him; to know there was something that not even Superman could handle—even with all his power.)

Conner closed his eyes, pushed off against the sink, turned sharply on his heel and walked into his bedroom. There was a full-length mirror by the closet, and after a moment of hesitation, Conner walked up to it.

He had dressed in a cut-off jeans that hugged his ass like a second pair of hands; the shirt was black but cool—one sleeve hanging off the shoulder; he had painted his eyes a deep blue that seemed to enhance the light blue of his eyes, and his lips glistened with a sweet-smelling lip gloss. The boots had a small heel, but Conner could walk confidently in them.

Conner had touched the mirror's cool surface and stared at himself for what felt like hours.

For once, he didn't feel like Superman.

Yet, somehow, he was still unhappy.

Xxx

Conner was hard muscles and lines—a straight arrow with an upside-down triangle for a chest. His arms and legs bulged with muscle, and even though he'd never grow stubble, Conner's jaw was a hard edge. He wasn't graceful like Artemis or M'gann, and he wasn't graceful like Wally or Dick. He was made for power—raw and angry. He was meant for destruction.

Even though the makeup made his face soft, it couldn't take away from everything.

But it was enough; just enough to break the mask of Superman's face and reveal Conner Kent—the boy hidden beneath the skin.

As Superboy, Conner felt like a copy.

As Conner Kent, Conner felt human.

Xxx

He dressed in the quiet darkness of his room—the only witness to his transformation the walls and ceiling and bed. He would stare at himself—his true self—and greet him as if he were a person from a distant memory.

Sometimes, if he hadn't been careful enough, M'gann would ask him why there was red in the craigs of his lips, and Wally would point out the dark circles on his eyes were from the shadow hadn't been wiped completely off. He would pass them both off as insomnia and blood from chewing his lips.

If anyone knew the truth, they didn't show it and Conner was content with that. He felt no need for wigs or false breasts. The makeup and clothes were enough—just enough to break Superboy's skin and reveal Conner Kent.

And though he wished to be Conner Kent, and just Conner Kent, Superman's blood was in his veins, and he couldn't disappoint.

He couldn't disappoint. . . .

Xxx

Sometimes, in the cool hours of darkness, Conner dreams of Kaldur.

Touching him softly on his lips smeared with rogue, on his painted eyelids, kissing him with a mouth that knew control and where to go. He dreams of Kaldur touching him through soft blue panties, working him to a hardness that was almost painful. He dreams of Kaldur kissing his face, whispering words in a language that Conner can't understand.

(Although, he's pretty sure that Kaldur is saying something about beauty.)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I still don't own Young Justice

Xxx

There's an extremely tense moment when Kaldur touches Conner's face. It's nothing long-lasting, but it's enough to leave an impression because when Kaldur pulls his fingers away, his fingertips glisten with foundation.

_(No! I thought I washed it all off!)_

Kaldur had walked into the bathroom where Conner was just about ready to step into the shower, and just before he had dropped his towel, (_Conner hadn't been paying attention to how tiny the towel was; rather, he was trying to not stare at Kaldur's rippling muscles and bronze skin_) he had tilted his head a fraction of an inch and had walked over to Conner. Without saying a word or twitching a muscle, face as serene (_and beautiful and soft and lovely and oh god those eyes those pale green eyes_) as ever, he had touched Conner's face with the softest of touches, and now the evidence of Conner Kent was smeared on Kaldur's fingers.

The Mountain is quiet except for Conner's heavy breathing. Somewhere Artemis and M'gann were training; Wally was probably stuffing his face in the kitchen, and Robin had gone with Batman on patrol.

"What is this?" Kaldur's voice isn't mocking or bitter. Rather, it's full of genuine curiosity, like a child that had seen a caterpillar crawling across a leaf.

"Foundation." Conner told the truth because he couldn't think of a lie.

Kaldur made a soft humming noise and rubbed his fingertips together. "What is it for?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"No. Such a product does not exist in Shayeris or Atlantis."

"People use it cover their faces when they have blemishes." Conner had swallowed when the word _women _had threatened to spill out.

"But you have no blemishes."

". . . I know."

"Then why do you use it?"

No mockery or disgust, just genuine curiosity.

"Because it makes me feel like me."

"But you are who you are, Conner."

"No, I'm not."

He had left before Kaldur could speak again.

Xxx

Conner tries not to think about Kaldur's fingers as he pulls a shirt down over his head. He tries not think about how the cool fabric had felt like Kaldur's fingertips—the phantom sensation of wetness running down his cheeks, chest and arms; tries not to think about how Kaldur had stared at him with such soft eyes as he pulls on his boots and trails his fingers up his legs; tries to not think about Kaldur kissing his neck and touching the exposed flesh as he dabs the faintest traces of flowery perfume on his skin; tries not to think about Kaldur kissing his lips and tasting his lipstick as the red paint glistens on his full lips; tries not to think about Kaldur whispering in his ear lines of poetry that talked about beauty.

And yet, Conner finds he can't help himself.

Xxx

Conner is an angry person, and this he has acknowledged many a-time, but he didn't think he was a jealous person. Over-protective yes; headstrong, of course; angry, a given, but not jealous.

And yet, Conner finds his heart racing as a girl gingerly touches Kaldur's exposed arms, traces the tattoo with a light finger, sidles up against him and rests her head on his shoulder. The girl isn't unattractive either. She has model legs, perfect-sized breasts, a gorgeous smile, hair the color of roses and deep blue eyes that were much softer than Conner's.

She whispered something in Kaldur's ear, and he blushed around his gills.

Conner had turned away.

Xxx

Conner stares at his eyes and suddenly hates them.

They're too bright, too blue, too narrow. He looks angry (_even when he didn't feel angry, he looked angry_). He has eyes the color of ice, of cold, of resentment, and Conner has to close his eyes because for a second, he saw Superman.

Xxx

"Is there something wrong, Conner?"

Kaldur had been silent for the most part, but Conner could hear his gentle breathing and smell him (_the smell of oceans and wet sand and sun and happy things_).

"Is something wrong?"

Conner shakes his head and continues to stare at the static on the television.

(_Hello? Are you in there, Conner Kent?_)

"I see."

Kaldur sits beside him, and Conner can feel the heat radiating off his skin.

There is a quiet moment. Conner can feel Kaldur's eyes on his skin—searching his face for something. (_Foundation residue_?)

"In Atlantis, natural beauty is appreciated. There really are no such products as makeup. Women are held in high regards for the beauty on the outside _and _inside."

"If you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working." Conner hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but he knew he wasn't beautiful or soft or pretty. He was handsome, masculine, sharp.

"My apologies," Kaldur's voice is soft, "but I do believe you are wrong about yourself, Conner."

"How so?"

"You think you are not attractive-"

(_No, I know I'm attractive. I'm just not the attractive that I want to be._)

"-but you must push such thoughts out of your head. You are quite an attractive person."

Conner doesn't know whether to blush or walk away angry or confess his secret like a sinner in a confessional box. Instead, he looks at Kaldur, eyes wide and obviously startled.

"You think I'm attractive?" The disbelief is evident in his voice, and Kaldur smiles.

"You are."

And for a moment they just stare at each other, and Conner can't help but think how Kaldur's eyes look like a soft piece of sea glass.

Xxx

Conner still puts on makeup, but not he's not so careful when he washes it off.

Faint traces of lipstick, the soft shadow of left over eyeshadow, the gentle smell of perfume, the faint stain of blush on his cheeks—nothing anyone else on the team would notice, unless you were Robin or Kaldur.

Robin notices; there's no way he can't. He's been trained by _the Batman_—he's supposed to see the invisible and make note of stares at Conner longer than usual, and he'll sometimes open his mouth to ask a question, but then will shut it and walk away.

Kaldur notices and gingerly touches each stain with deft fingers while Conner explains the function of each in the humid showers.

(_It's all for you, can't you see? This is the real me, and he wants you to see him. Can you?_)

Xxx

Conner wants to buy a dress—something loose with a bare back, something not red or blue or black, but something softer. Cream would look good, maybe green; he knows red would look good, but it seems too much like him (_too much like Superman's cape, minus the gold "S"_).

None of the stores carry anything he wants, and he finds himself envious of the women in their tight dresses in heels with long legs and slender frames because those kinds of dresses would look _awful_ on him—like a bulky mountain draped in silk.

Xxx

In his dreams, Conner sheds his flesh and bones and emerges much like a butterfly (_a girlie synonym but accurate_). His skin is red, and everything hurts, but he feels real and alive for the first time, and he rushes through the skies, arms spread as he embraces the sun and clouds.

Kaldur appears—stepping out of the misty landscape—and his eyes are completely honest. He pulls Conner close and whispers in his ear:

"So beautiful."

Xxx

When Conner wakes up, there's an emptiness settles in the space where his heart should be—hot, aching and burning.

It's during these times that Conner feels the tears burning his eyes, but he never cries. Instead, he pushes Conner Kent away, dons his shirt and greets his teammates with a slight acknowledgement.

(_He finds Kaldur staring into his eyes, and he wonders if he can see that they are stained red._)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Young Justice  
**A/N**: Wow, it's been FOREVER since I've updated this, but I'm not giving it up. I'm going to finish Identity in incriments until my own laptop is fixed. Until then, please be patient with me. I'm going to age Dick in this fic, so for a time frame, think before Season 2. Included a LITTLE Dick/Conner in this chapter because I could; anywho, ENJOY!

Xxxx

Dick is the first person that buys Conner a dress.

Xxxx

Conner isn't surprised when he finds Dick in his room, but he stares at the material that is draped over Dick's arm. It's a pretty blue that match's Conner's eyes, and there's a black ribbon around the middle.

"What is that?" Conner asks, and Dick smiles.

"It's a dress, duh!"

"Who's it for?"

Dick's eyebrows arch over the glasses that conceal his eyes. "I'm in your room, aren't I?"

"Why'd you buy this for me?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?"

Conner's mouth snaps shut, and Dick leaps up from his bed, limbs unfurling from his body. Despite the fact that time had aged him, Dick was still graceful, and despite the muscle that he had built up over the years, they weren't bulky like Conner's. They were the muscles of a feline, meant for agility.

Dick holds up the dress by the thin sleeves. The material shimmers like ocean water beneath the sun. "Do you like it?"

Conner touches the dress with careful fingers. "It's beautiful, but I—"

Dick cuts him off with a sharp sound and shakes his head, "Don't you dare say that you don't deserve it! It took me weeks to find a dress that I thought would look good on you, and damn it, you're going to try it on!"

Conner can't see his Dick's eyes, but he knows they're narrowed. He submits with a slow nod of his head and takes the dress.

"Put your makeup on, too." Dick calls after him. "I want to see the full effect."

Conner dresses slowly, paints his face with careful fingers. He debates about perfume for a moment before he decides that the dress and makeup is enough. The dress has a loose skirt that falls to Conner's kneecaps, and the ribbon around the middle gives Conner the illusion of curves. Both of the sleeves cling to the rise of his arms and leave his shoulders naked. He's painted his eyes a deep shade of blue and lightly lined them. He thought about the cherry-colored lipstick, but he eventually settled on a nude lipgloss that smelled like apples.

(_Apples? Damn!_)

When he emerges, Dick whistles and motions Conner to spin around with a gentle twirling of his wrist. Conner obeys, and he thinks of an old Disney movie about a girl whose fairy godmother gave her a beautiful blue gown and glass slippers.

"I knew that would look good on you!" Dick's smile stretches from ear to ear.

Conner stares at himself in the mirror, holds the skirt of the dress loosely in his hand as he sways from side-to-side. After a beat of silence, the question that clung to the tip of his tongue broke free and fell out of his mouth:

"How long have you known?"

Dick's laugh is reminiscent of Peter Pan, but he hasn't been a boy in a long time. "It's not like you tried to hide it. _Batman's _protégé, remember?"

Conner's smile felt stiff on his face. Dick moves behind him, silent as a shadow creeping over a wall. The years have made him taller, and he's now tall enough so that he can place his chin on Conner's shoulder. He wraps his arms around Conner's middle and kisses his cheek with innocent affection.

"You look beautiful, Conner."

"Do I?"

Dick nods. Conner can smell his cologne on him, deep and spicy. It's attractive, alluring. Everything about Dick has been filled in. Robin molted his feathers, and instead of a songbird, there was now a bird of prey. Dicks' face was strong now, with sharp angles and yet it drabs of his youth still clung to his cheek.

However, Dick wasn't Kaldur. He wasn't muscles and dark skin and salty brine. He wasn't warm like Kaldur. His home was in the shadows with his bat-themed teacher. In another life, perhaps they could have been lovers, but Conner was a Kryptonian, and Kryptonians needed the sun, not the moon.

Dick says, "Kaldur is going to love this."

Conner stiffens in his arms. "I—I don't know if I want him to see."

"He will eventually, Conner."

"I know."

"So when will you let him see you?"

"I—I hope soon."

Dick looks at him in the mirror, kisses Conner on the cheek again, but he refuses to let go. Conner shudders and Dick asks:

"What?"

Conner shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but you're cold."

Xxxx

No one else seems to notice, but Conner knows Kaldur is staring at him, and the guilt makes his neck blush a deep red.

It almost feels like cheating, but Conner knows it isn't. You can't cheat on someone if you're not in a relationship with them. Yet the guilt eats at his heart until there's nothing left but the hard core.

Dick's kisses linger on his skin, and he wonders if Kaldur can seem them—soft-pink stains against the gold of his skin. He feels like he should apologize, but every time he tries, no words come out.

Kaldur stares at him, and Conner can't read his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Young Justice.  
A/N: Finally, a chapter with Kaldur'ahm's thoughts.

Xxx

He sees Dick and Conner together, and jealousy is born in his heart.

Xxx

They lean towards each other, and it's like they are destined to be together. If they touched, their bodies would fit together, like pieces of a puzzle. It's almost unsettling, the way Dick's lips linger dangerously close to the curve of Conner's ear, and it makes his throat seize whenever Conner's shoulders shake with a contained laughter at something Dick said.

The voice in Kaldur's head is bitter and biting, _His secret was mine first. His beauty, laugh, smile, heart—it was all mine first._

Kaldur doesn't want to act childish nor does he want to act like a dog that is furious at another pissing in its territory, but the jealousy scratches away at the layers of his heart and leave angry scars in their wake. He watches them together, and the snake in his ear hisses of their love-making, of their special moments that were hidden together in the darkness.

_They make love, and he can see Conner's face. He can see every expression, kiss his beautiful lips, hold him like you refuse to._

_I don't want to assume._

"_Assume"? He's trying to tell you something. Why can you not see it? You're going to lose him._

_No I—_

_Yes, Kaldur'ahm. You're going to lose him, and then who are you going to blame?_

Xxxx

"Are you alright, Kaldur?"

"I'm fine, Nightwing."

"No, you're not."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because whenever you're pissed off at me, you call me Nightwing."

Kaldur can feel Dick's eyes on his back. In front of him, the world is spread out on a multitude of monitors. All is quiet and still, no screaming woman or fire or villains to fend off or arrest. Mount Justice is buzzing with quiet conversation, but there are willing ears ready to capture the slightest disturbance so disagreements are kept at a quiet whisper.

"What have I done, Kaldur?"

Kaldur casts a glance over his shoulder. Dick's back his erect, and his hands are spread out before him like he's ready to accept an offering. He is innocent in all of this.

Kaldur sighs and turns back to the monitors. "You have done nothing, my friend."

Dick makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Obviously I did something. What is it? What did I do or what do you think I did?"

"As I've said, it is nothing _you _have done." Kaldur faces him, and he hopes there is nothing on his face showcasing his emotions. "The wrongdoing is my fault."

Dick's domino mask scrunches up, and even though his eyes are concealed behind white lenses, Kaldur knows they have narrowed in confusion.

"Trust me, my friend, you have done nothing wrong."

"Are you sure?"

Kaldur nods, and it hurts to smile.

"I'm positive."

Xxx

Conner wrestles with Wolf on the floor, and he is beautiful. His smile is brilliant; his eyes are bright, and muscles work beneath his tight, golden flesh. His hair is damp with sweat and clings to the expanse of his brow, and his laughter rings like the clearest of bells.

Kaldur wants to join them, but then he glances at Conner's cheek, and the jealousy returns.

He hadn't meant to spy. He had just been checking the recordings from the Mount Justice, and he had stumbled upon Conner's room. His breath had caught in his throat, and his heart stilled in his chest. Conner had been _breathtaking_. His face had been painted, and the blue of his dress accented his skin and eyes. His mouth had been dampened with lip gloss, and the desire to kiss had crashed into Kaldur like a tidal wave.

Then Dick had wrapped his arms around him, and Kaldur's world became red around the edges. The kiss was stained like a soft mark on Conner's skin, and Kaldur had wanted to bite and suck and lick at the tight flesh to bury it.

Xxx

_Hurry, Kaldur'ahm. If you wait too long, you're going to lose him. Do you want that? Do you want to live with the knowledge that you could have made him yours and you could have been his, and you let him go because you hesitated for just a brief moment? Do you want to live with the fact that you could have been his strength? That you could have been his rock, his secret-keeper, his one and only, and you let him go because for a brief second, you were jealous?_

_Tell me, Kaldur'ahm of Atlantis, how you would you live with yourself?  
_

Xxx

It happens in an instant, a sudden epiphany that comes in the dark-blue hours of early morning. Kaldur jolts up from his bed, a dream quickly fading from his memory, and he knows what he must do.

He rises out of bed and steps into the darkness of the long hallway. He follows the path to Conner's room, and when he yanks the door open, he feels his heart come to a complete stop.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I don't own Young Justice.  
Disclaimer: I apologize for the late update. This chapter's gonna be short just because. I honestly never planned for this chapter to be very long anyway.

Xxxx

It's not Conner's first time with masturbation.

He remembers learning about it in his pod, and he remembers the warmth and the pleasure and the stickiness on his hand. During the days following his awakening, he masturbated because it was a habit that had been ingrained in him, and he wanted to feel complete and whole and in control.

It's Conner's first experience with penetration.

The dreams are what inspired him. (_The dreams that are hot and wet and wild and leave him breathless and empty but somehow feeling whole, and he's scared of them but he wants them and he doesn't know how to feel, but he thinks he does._) He dreams of Kaldur, naked and hard and glistening and smelling of the sea and warm, and he dreams that Kaldur's inside of him, moving with him. When he wakes up, he always wraps his aching length in a tight fist and bites his lips to stifle his groans as he comes, but now it's not enough.

So in the darkness of his room, he slicks up his fingers with lotion that smells like clean, sterile things and gingerly slips a finger inside his puckered entrance. He tries not to clench but he has no control over his muscles, and he feels so strange in his skin—like his bones are trying to erupt from his skin, like Superboy and Kon-el are trying to keep Conner Kent caged.

But he's never been one to give up. So he removes the finger, dresses in white lingerie, kneels on the bed and tries again.

It's suddenly easier.

His finger slips inside, and he's searching and probing until he finds the spot that the Gnomes whispered about. He arches and adds another finger and another and another until he's four fingers in, and it feels wonderful, but it's nothing more than a cheap imitation of what he really wants. His thighs tremble, and there's Kryptonian constituting half of his DNA, but he feels weak, and his heart is thudding against his ribs. He feels naked and vulnerable; he feels like a rabbit, but it's not a feeling he hates.

He images Kaldur; imagines him coming up from behind and thrusting into him—being gentle and rough and everything he needs. He imagines Kaldur kissing his neck and biting at the tight flesh; imagines Kaldur whispering beautiful things to him in both Atlantean and English. He imagines Kaldur spilling all his secrets into his willing ear; imagines letting the contents of his heart brew and bubble until they spilled over his lips. He imagines that this is what love feels like, and it's the most beautiful thing in the world.

When he reaches his orgasm, he bites his tongue and swallow Kaldur's name. He collapses into himself, trembling and crying but he's not making any noise because, god forbid, what if Superman had stopped by to actually talk to him or at least look at him. The lingere feels cool and soft against his skin, and he feels at home.

"Conner?"

Conner's eyes fly open. (_How? How the hell could he not have heard anything?_) and his head shoots up so fast he can hear the bones in his neck creak with the effort.

Kaldur is staring at him with wide eyes, and his hands are trembling fists at his side.

Conner's heart turns into stone and plummets into his stomach.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Still don't own Young Justice.

A/N: I don't have any excuse for why I haven't updated other than I got into other fandoms and forgot about this for a while. This will be the second to last chapter. Enjoy.

Xxxx

Kaldur swallows and Conner stares at him.

There's fear in his eyes—pure, raw fear. His lips tremble, and they're wet from his tongue. His eyes are glassy with a post-orgasm high, and his thighs and belly are damp with his own release. He's dressed in white: thin lace sleeves, silk material, white panties stretched tight across his thighs. His skin is damp with sweat and Kaldur wants to lick him clean.

For several minutes, neither of them says anything and then Conner begins to move.

_He's going to run. Don't let him get away._

Kaldur lurches forward and before Conner can stumble off the bed, he takes a hold of Conner's wrist. Conner could easily throw him off, but he either doesn't want to or forgets the fact that he's half Kryptonian because he allows Kaldur to lead him back to the bed. He readjusts himself and settles next to Kaldur, every muscle in his body tense.

They don't speak for several minutes, both terrified to break the silence. Kaldur speaks first:

"What were you so afraid of?"

Conner answers immediately, like he's been preparing all his life to answer this question:

"The G-Gnomes taught me many things, and human judgments were one of them. Humans will always be passing judgment on others, and sometimes, it can be harsh. I was afraid of what the team would think of me, of what _you _would think of me."

"Dick approved, didn't he?"

Conner startles and turns to look at Kaldur, eyes wide. "How did you know that?"

Kaldur feels his breath catch in his throat, and he tries to swallow the truth, but it bubbles over his lips and spills into his lap.

"I was not trying to spy. I was checking the surveillance cameras and I saw Dick and you together."

Conner looks down at his hands.

"How much did you see?"

"All of it."

And Kaldur thinks he can see that kiss again, pink like a rising sun on Conner's cheek.

"The kiss didn't mean anything." Conner says and he doesn't understand why he's trying to explain himself. He wasn't cheating, after all. "It was just friendly."

"I know. I'm not angry at Dick."

"Then why are you angry?"

Kaldur stands and paces the room, his thoughts gathering in his head like angry storm clouds. The words break free like lightning across the sky:

"I was angry at _myself_. I thought I had let you slip away, and I wouldn't be able to get you back. I'm not known for my excellent timing, Conner."

Conner's shoulders shake with contained laughter. He looks at Kaldur, and Kaldur can see the conflict in his eyes, sharp and bright like shattered glass reflecting sunlight. After a few heartbeats, his eyes clear and with a definite nod of his head, Conner stands up and the fabric of his lingerie whispers to Kaldur:

_Peel me away; see the pearl I hide._

Conner moves across the room with a practiced grace. It's not perfect, but it causes a heat to stir in Kaldur's belly. When he stops in front of Kaldur, one hand comes to rest on Kaldur's hip while the other gently rubs at his collarbone. He refuses to meet Kaldur's eyes, the blush spreading across his cheek and neck coupled with the white lace giving him the appearance of a demure courtesan, but Conner isn't playing innocence for seduction's sake, and Kaldur knows this. He's awkward in his own flesh.

Kaldur wants to set him free.

"When you look at me," Conner begins, his voice surprisingly soft like leaves rolling over concrete, "when you see me like this, what do you see?"

Kaldur takes Conner's chin between his thumb and forefinger, runs his thumb beneath the swell of Conner's bottom lip. He answers honestly:

"I see you."

He brings their lips together, and all is suddenly right with the world.


End file.
